A Reign of Blood and Fire
by Vivienne-Devereaux
Summary: Unbeknownst to Ichabod, Katrina was with child when he was killed in battle. Katrina was led to believe that Johanna died shortly after she was born. Johanna believes that she was abandoned by her family in 1795. Her parents don't know of her existence and she doesn't know of theirs. Can Johanna help Abbie and Ichabod defeat The Four Horsemen and stop the apocalypse?
1. Chapter 1

Johanna Danvers was going to die. There was no way out. She watched in horror as the headless man ripped free from the chains that she'd summoned. He came closer and closer, ax ready. She could see clearly that he was wearing some kind of old military uniform. She had the oddest feeling of recognition, not that she could recognize the man without his head anyhow. Johanna's back brushed the side of the church. As Jo's hands curled around the cold bricks and she stared into the darkness, she knew that she was ready. "I'll not tell you where it is." The headless man's white steed reared up at this, its red eyes glowing. "I'm prepared to die." As the headless man swung the axe toward her, it glinted in the moonlight. In that moment, the weapon was almost beautiful. It would be a beautiful death. She felt as the blade connected with her flesh—

Jo woke gasping for breath, drenched in sweat. She threw the sheets from her bed and put her head, which was now pounding with the sprint of her heartbeat, into her hands. The cold wooden floor beneath her feet was a soothing reminder that she was awake. She rubbed almost absently at her throat; she could feel the phantom presence of the blade against her skin. Jo stood at the side of her bed and stretched, waiting until she was fully awake to glance at the clock.

"Please, God let me have slept longer than two bloody hours." She covered her eyes with one hand and peeked through her fingers at the evil, red digital numbers. 3:33am. Jo groaned; four hours was better than nothing.

Jo turned back to her bed, tearing the sopping wet towels from the sheets and threw them over the side of the bath as she had done every night for the past three weeks. Every night, Jo had the same dream and in every dream, Jo died. Night terrors were expected when one deals with the forces that Jo did, but not the same dream. Never once in the two centuries she'd lived had Jo dreamt the same dream.

As a witch, Johanna had encountered plenty of dark forces; dark witches, demons, even some humans…Some had terrified her so badly that she wanted to give up being a witch; at times she'd wanted to give up all together. Her friends throughout the centuries, most of them were dead now, had helped her keep it together. There was only one person that could help Jo in this dark hour. Reverend Knapp.

Albert Knapp was like a father to her; he pushed her when she needed to be pushed and comforted her when the world was simply too much to deal with. He'd taken her in after her family had abandoned her when she turned thirteen. Her powers had begun to manifest and her mortal family believed that she was an agent of the devil himself. Knapp had found her asleep on one of the pews of his church in two centuries before…

**August 1795**

"_Where is your family, Child?" The white haired reverend asked, sitting carefully beside her._

_She'd sat up like a proper lady and explained that they were afraid of her, and so they left. They left like everyone else had left her because she was different._

"_Different how?" Reverend Knapp asked sadly._

"_I can make things happen." The candles around the church began to spark and light up as young Johanna spoke. Tears trailed down her cheeks as the dark church was illuminated. "Mother said that I was a devil. That I was going to be burned!" _

_For the first time in her life, thirteen year old Johanna looked upon another's face and saw sympathy. Reverend Knapp said simply, "People are afraid of what they do not understand." With a wave of his hand, the candles were extinguished._

_Johanna's eyes widened, "You—"_

"_You mustn't speak of what you can do to others, Johanna. Do you understand?" She nodded eagerly, a small smile growing on her face as the tears subsided. "And you must understand that you will always have family in me. I made a promise to your mother that I would look after you should anything happen to her." He handed her a worn leather bible, "This was your mother's."_

"_She left me. I do not want it." Johanna replied stubbornly._

"_She did not leave you." Before Johanna could ask what Reverent Knapp was talking about, he stood and ordered with a kind smile, "Read the scripture. I will return for you when rooms are made ready."_

Johanna smiled at the memory as she dialed the number for Reverend Knapp's church. After a few rings, an elderly female voice answered. "This is Sister Patrice. May I help you?"

"Yes, this is Johanna Danvers. I was hoping to speak with Reverend Knapp." There was silence. Something was wrong. "Sister?" Johanna asked after a moment.

"I'm very sorry. Reverend Knapp was murdered three weeks ago. God rest his soul."

Johanna's hands were shaking as she took the phone from her ear and ended the call. She couldn't take her eyes from the cell phone for a moment.

Jo bit her lip as she felt the tears begin to build. Tears of sorrow, tears of regret. The tears that fell were tears of rage. Rage that was realized when Jo hurled the phone at the wall and it broke into dozens of tiny pieces of metal and glass. She could feel the power crackle in her fingertips, like static electricity as she took a deep breath and swept her long auburn hair from her face. The lights around her room began to flicker to life as she focused the power outside of her body. The lamps all pulsated in unison, growing brighter and brighter. Suddenly, every light bulb in the room burst, sending shards of glass every which way.

Johanna was in the dark again.

Just like in her dream.

Maybe it hadn't been a dream at all.

* * *

"One night." Abbie muttered into her pillow as she rolled over and grabbed her screeching cell phone, "One night without crime is all I ask." She clicked on her bedside lamp and sat up as she accepted the call. "Lieutenant Mills."

There was only static on the other end.

"Hello?" Abbie asked loudly, "Hello?" She took the phone away from her ear to squint at the screen. There was no phone number listed on the caller ID.

Through the static, Abbie could make out a few whispered words. "Hollow… …way…careful…very…"

"Who is this?" She demanded. The static buzzed louder and the same words were repeated in a feminine whisper. Fed up, Abbie went to end the call.

As her finger connected with the touch screen of the phone, the world around Abbie dissolved away. Somehow, she ended up standing fully clothed in an unlit white room. It took her a moment, but Abbie was able to recognize where she was. Katrina had summoned her again.

The witch rounded the corner, dressed in her usual black dress with her hair spilling over her shoulders. "Hello, Ms. Mills." The white, gauzy curtains rustled with a mystic wind.

"Was that you on my phone just now?" Abbie asked, eyebrows raised and she crossed her arms.

Katrina nodded as she stepped forward, "I thought that it would be of more convenience to you, but I couldn't establish a clear connection. My apologies." Outside, the dead trees creaked in unison with the moans of the souls in purgatory. Katrina's eyes widened and she continued in a softer voice, "We are always being watched here, but I had to warn you."

"Warn me?" Abbie glanced out the window and noticed a shadowy figure lurking near the window. Her hand automatically went to her hip, but her gun was nowhere to be found. Purgatory. Right. Abbie looked back to Katrina, "Warn me about what?"

"You're all in danger. There is a witch on her way to Sleepy Hollow. She is more powerful than anyone I've ever seen. I don't know her intention yet, but you must keep yourselves safe." Katrina walked further inside of the ancient looking house. Abbie tried to follow her, but she couldn't seem to move her feet. Katrina's next words were a whisper. "You must remember that nothing is what it seems."

Abbie was jolted back into her bedroom by the ring of her cell phone once again. This time it was Captain Irving. "Rise and shine, Lieutenant Mills; we've got a murder suspect in holding demanding to speak to you and Crane."

Later, Abbie was banging on the cabin door with her fist, yelling, "Crane! Let's go! We've got a case!"

When the door finally opened a fully clothed, perfectly groomed Ichabod Crane was standing in the threshold. He looked better than Abbie had seen him in days; he'd taken the horseman's revelations pretty rough. Ichabod asked as he shut the door, "Does crime never sleep?"

Abbie sighed and shook her head, "Nope. But I'll bet there's a fresh pot of coffee waiting at the station with your name written all over it."

Ichabod's brow came together in confusion as they got into the car, "Why would my name be written on it?"

"Never mind."

Irving met Abbie and Ichabod almost as soon as they walked through the door, "The suspect's name is Gerry Mason. He's being charged with the murder of his wife, Emma. She was found dead three days ago." He handed Abbie the file as they reached her desk. She opened it to reveal pictures filled with blood and gore. Emma Mason had been found tied to a chair with burn marks, bruises, and slashes covering her body. "The M.E. hasn't completed the autopsy yet, with all of the backlog, but his estimate is that she was tortured for at least twenty-four hours before he killed her."

Ichabod took the file from Abbie, saying, "How could you do this to someone you love?" Abbie knew from the look in his eye that he was thinking of Katrina. She hadn't told him about her visit yet because she needed him focused on the case. Not that there was a case, as of yet, but if they ended up being the lead with the suspect, she needed to keep him focused.

"Morales was the lead on the case." Irving warned as he went back to his office, "Try not to step on any toes."

"This is gonna be fun." Abbie said sarcastically as she looked around the office. Most of the desks were empty, considering that it was the middle of the night. Morales was there, glaring daggers at Ichabod. There was a night janitor cleaning the windows of Irving's office. There one thing that was out of place was the woman at the front desk. Abbie couldn't quite make out what she was saying, but she seemed to be arguing with the secretary about something.

The British woman was a little younger than Abbie, with long, wavy auburn hair and pale skin. Her hands were gripping the secretary's desk as her voice grew louder and louder. She looked furious. This drew Ichabod's attention. "Who is that?"

"I have no idea." Abbie said as she stared.

Out of nowhere, the lights above their heads began to flicker. Ripples ran through the fresh coffee that had been waiting for them on Abbie's desk. Abbie looked to Ichabod and the expression on his face said that he could feel it too. The raw energy that was suddenly running through the office.

Irving emerged from his office again and looked to Abbie. "What's that about?"

"I have no idea, Sir."

"Hm." Was all the Captain said before he went out to the lobby area. Abbie watched him try to calm the woman, but she wasn't having any of it. Captain Irving raised his voice when she began to start in again, "Ma'am, I am only going to ask you once to keep your voice down and respect this office. It is the middle of the night and we are all tired."

The woman took a deep breath, as if she actually considered yelling again. "Sorry." The look on her face said that she was not sorry at all.

Irving gestured for her to enter the bull-pen and said, "Formalities. I'm Captain Irving, and you are?"

She clenched her jaw, "Johanna Danvers."

They stood at the entrance of the office. "And how can the Sleepy Hollow Police Department help you at this ungodly hour, Ms. Danvers?"

"You can help me, Captain Irving, by explaining to me why I wasn't informed about Reverend Knapp's murder." Somehow, Johanna Danvers, the petite little thing she was, managed to talk down to Captain Irving.

Ichabod was probably trying to be helpful when he butted in, but Abbie bet that Irving didn't see it that way. "You knew the good Reverend?"

Johanna's dark green eyes glared at Ichabod as she challenged him with snark, "Did you?"

"May I?" Ichabod looked to Irving, who threw up his hands in a surrender motion and retreated to his office. "Would you like to sit?"

"No, I would not." Abbie could see that she had calmed a little, "I would like to know what happened to Alfred."

"Alfred?" Abbie said, suddenly interested by the newcomer as she sat comfortably in her desk chair, "Did you know him on a personal basis?"

"He raised me." Ichabod pulled out a chair for Johanna. She took it, giving him a nod in thanks.

"I'm sorry for your loss." Ichabod said, "His sacrifice was for the greater good."

"Sacrifice?" Johanna asked, confused as Abbie tried to quiet Ichabod. "How was he murdered?" The lights flickered again. "Sorry." Johanna muttered as she leaned forward.

"He was decapitated." Ichabod said simply. Abbie winced at the bluntness of the statement.

"He was decapitated." Johanna repeated before she fell silent for a moment. She cleared her throat, "By a horseman?"

"You know of The Horseman?" Ichabod asked before Abbie could stop him.

"Excuse us for just a moment." Abbie smiled sweetly to Johanna. Suddenly, she seized Ichabod's arm and tugged him away into Irving's office and shut the door behind them before he could protest. Something wasn't right.

Captain Irving looked up, unsurprised and unamused, "What now, Lieutenant?" He leaned back into his chair.

"What is it, Abbie?" Ichabod asked, concerned as his flustered friend glanced out of the window of the office, past the janitor, and to Johanna Danvers, who stared right back.

With her voice lowered, Abbie said, "Katrina visited me earlier." Ichabod looked to Abbie surprised, probably that she hadn't mentioned this earlier. "She gave me a warning."

"A warning?" Ichabod said as he and Irving listened intently, "What was it?"

Abbie glanced out to the office again; Johanna was still waiting in the flimsy metal chair. "Katrina said that a witch was on her way. _A really powerful witch._ Did you see how the lights flickered when she walked in? Couldn't you feel the power?"

"Yes." Ichabod said immediately, "I could feel it."

"I felt something." Irving admitted, "Like—pop rocks were fizzing all over my skin." At the strange looks from both Ichabod and Abbie, Irving explained, "My daughter's favorite candy."

"If Ms. Danvers is to whom Katrina was referring, it would make sense. Reverend Knapp was present during the revolution. He assisted Katrina with the spell that she used to ensure my resurrection."

Abbie and Irving stared incredulously. "The Reverend was 250 years old."

"Reverend Knapp was 307, actually, and a warlock." Ichabod corrected his partner.

"Is no one normal in Sleepy Hollow?" Irving exclaimed, "I'm being serious."

"I think that Johanna Danvers was who Katrina was talking about!" Abbie hissed as she continued, "Katrina also said that _nothing is what it seems_…" The three all looked out at the office again.

This time something was different.

This time something was missing.

This time, Johanna Danvers was gone.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed/followed/favorited.**

**And also, as a response to last night's episode…CALLED IT! Only in this case, there is a daughter, not a son.**

* * *

Spiders. Johanna could feel them scuttling around in her hair, on her neck, on her back. Their hairy little legs would catch on her skin, begging her attention. As Jo stared blankly at empty desk that she was stuck in front of, the spiders were almost a welcome distraction. Almost. At least they weren't real.

They were a sign. A sign that something evil had arrived in Sleepy Hollow. She'd learned long ago that spiders, black dogs, and the usual superstitions were real, but they didn't mean what the layman thought; they were all warnings.

Johanna resisted the urge to smack the phantom warnings away and shuffled in her seat, trying to get comfortable in the cold metal chair. She ran her tongue along her teeth and looked to the office that the two cops had invaded. At least Johanna assumed they were cops; the one looked more like a Revolutionary War enthusiast. They knew about the supernatural aspects of Alfred's death and what's stranger: they seemed to be genuine believers. It was a rare find in the humanity of today's world.

She watched as one of the phantom spiders crawled gently down her shoulder, its leg catching on the lace of her black top every now and then. The spider was black with white markings in the shape of a bow and arrow. Its beady little eyes seemed to stare up at her until one by one, the other spiders followed in suit. One spider lingered at the back of her neck, shifting its legs around before sinking its fangs into her neck.

"Shite!" Johanna gasped, smacking at the back of her neck as she jumped out of her chair. Her hand connected with the spider and it squished beneath her fingers. She pulled her hand away to look at its remains, but there was nothing there; her hand was clean.

"Are you alright, Miss?" The attractive detective sulking at his desk had looked up at her yelp and wore a concerned look on his face. His nameplate read 'Morales.'

"Quite." She threw in a small smile and rushed off to follow the spiders out of the police station and to her car. One of them had managed to squeeze its way into the passenger's seat of her black Audi and was resting atop the leather-bound bible she'd carried with her for over two centuries. "Of course it's the church." She said to herself as she put her car into gear. She glanced back down at the bible to see if she would get any other clues, but the spiders had disappeared. "It's always the bloody church."

Moments later, Johanna pulled up to what was formerly Reverend Knapp's church. The relatively modern church had been closed off as a crime scene, but there was an eerie quality about it. This place had known true evil. Her hand automatically went to the silver crucifix that Reverend Knapp had given her as a child.

Johanna approached the church, bible in hand, as she tore away the yellow crime scene tape on the outside of the building. There was a large, white portion of the door jamb that had been taped off as well. It mentioned something about 'trespassing' and 'jail time,' but Johanna ignored the rest. Jail time would be the least of her worries if the police officers were right about who had killed Reverend Knapp. Johanna ripped through the last of the barriers and found that the doors were locked.

"Right." Johanna walked back to her car and opened her trunk. The trunk was packed full of weapons (all unloaded) and tools that she would need on any of her excursions. Jo moved aside the velvet case full of knives, in search of a sledgehammer instead. She shut the trunk softly and went to confront the door again.

Jo kissed her bible and offered up a quick, silent prayer for desecrating one of God's houses. She set the bible on the steps below her and went to work. It only took three solid hits to the lock for her to be able to kick the doors open. Jo was setting down the sledgehammer on the steps and retrieving her bible when she heard a voice say seriously, "You're going to go to hell for that."

She raised an eyebrow at the comment and turned around, "I was under the impression that I was already there."

The owner of the voice couldn't be more than thirteen. He had dark hair and a thick scar across his forehead. "Not yet." He smiled sweetly and his eyes faded to black orbs.

Not a boy. Definitely not a boy.

Eyes wide, Johanna stumbled through the door, barely managing to grab the sledgehammer as she rushed inside and slammed the doors behind her. Back against the doors, Jo's eyes darted around the sanctuary, desperate for anything to keep the door shut. The demon posing as a child, an innocent. She could hear his soft footfalls as he approached the doors. He sniffed at it as Jo seized a large candelabrum from her left and managed to slam it through the handles of the doors. Hallowed ground: the only place that her magic was useless.

She was terrified. More than she'd been when she found out that Reverend Knapp had been murdered by the Headless Horseman. This was a true demon. A lesser demon, yes, but it was most definitely a demon. It couldn't cross over hallowed ground, but it could still torment and trick its victim.

Johanna searched the unfamiliar surroundings for any piece that she recognized. Reverend Knapp would have hidden it somewhere that only she would know. It, being a knife that could subdue demons. The Blade of St. Eligius couldn't kill demons, but it could make them a bit more compliant. She could only assume that was what the demon outside was looking for and what the phantom spiders had warned her against.

"Johanna Danversssss…" The demon-child purred from outside. "Johaaaaaaannnnnaaaaa."

She shivered involuntarily as she looked through the pews, slowly making her way up to the altar. It had been at least a decade since she'd come face to face with a demon. Moscow, 1999. That had been the last time she'd seen—

"Henry." She could feel the demon smiling through the door, "How is your husband? We've been _dying_ to see him."

Johanna ripped the bowl of holy water that was inset into one of the pillars and doused herself in it; Better safe than sorry, considering that the demon didn't have to enter the church to cause her harm. Her eyes darted around the church, searching for any sign of the blade. Johanna approached the wall on which the story of Christ's crucifixion hung. The panels were made of painted plaster, simple but beautiful. Between them, hung a crucifix that was slightly longer than her bible. It was different than the others throughout the church. This one was made of metal. Jo yanked it right off of the wall taking a bit of the brick with it.

The demon outside continued to yell profanities. The walls were vibrating in response to the demon's presence. Dust floated down, coating Johanna like a ghost as the pews began to shake and overturn. The demon's powers decimated the altar at the front of the church, sending religious articles flying every which way. Johanna ducked just in time as a silver candlestick flew at her head and smashed into one of the plaster panels, shattering it.

There was so much noise that Johanna couldn't hear herself think. She squinted at the cold, silver crucifix, running her hand along the top. There was a tiny notch in the top, shaped like her crucifix. She smiled to herself, ignoring the chaos around her to appreciate the amount of craftsmanship that Reverend Knapp had put into altering the ancient blade for hiding. "Well done, Rev."

Johanna yanked the pendant from her neck and pushed the bottom of it into the notch of the larger crucifix as the doors of the church began to shake. The candelabrum that she'd used to bar the door went flying off with such force that it ended up sticking out of a brick wall. The doors flew open to reveal the demon-child smiling at the threshold. Just beyond him, Jo could see that the officers from the Sheriff's department had arrived. Lovely.

Jo twisted the pendant.

* * *

"Where did she go?" Abbie asked as she threw open the door to the Captain's office. Johanna Danvers was nowhere to be seen. Weird, seeing as she wanted their help so badly.

"It seems that Ms. Danvers had a more pressing matter to attend to." Ichabod said, hands behind his back as he followed Abbie out of the office.

"Ah ah!" The Captain stopped the two just before Abbie grabbed her coat, "You two also have a more pressing matter to attend to." Ichabod frowned at Captain Irving's imitation of him. At their blank looks, the Captain prodded, "The reason I called you in here this late? Gerry Mason. Ringing any bells?"

"Don't you think that anyone involved with our mission to stop-the-Horseman-and-or-prevent-the-apocalypse is more important?" Abbie asked, putting her coat back down onto her chair and crossing her arms

Morales chimed in. "What was that about a horseman?" Abbie hadn't even heard him approach.

"Nothing." Ichabod said with a smile. Morales glared. As Ichabod and Abbie went off to talk with Gerry Mason in holding, Morales was arguing with the Captain about why he should still have the case.

"Don't look so guilty Ms. Mills. It's not as if you snatched the case off of his desk." Ichabod said as they approached the holding cell. A young, red headed man sat with his head in his hands on the lone bench in the cell. He wore a Red Sox baseball jersey that was spattered with blood. Forensics wouldn't arrive until morning, so he'd have to sit in the filth until then.

"Mr. Mason?" Abbie said, staring him down, "What was so important that it couldn't wait until morning?"

"What?" Gerry sniffed pitifully and looked up. His eyes were rimmed with red from sobbing and a thin line of mucus hung from his nose. Gerry swiped at it with his hand as he stood. "Yeah." He offered them his hand. Abbie didn't even look at it, but Ichabod shook his head and folded his hands behind his back. "I didn't do it."

"You know how many times I've heard that one?" Abbie asked, turning to leave as a ploy, "Come on, Crane."

"Wait! Wait!" Gerry Mason clung to the bars like a monkey, "Please, wait! I swear to you that I didn't do it! I would never hurt my wife!"

"The evidence seems to disagree, Mr. Mason." Ichabod said, plucking the file from Abbie's hands and thumbing through it almost casually.

"Forensics found your skin underneath your wife's fingernails!" Abbie said loudly, getting in between the two men, "There is a traffic camera that places you at your home, dragging your wife's lifeless body out of the house and putting her in the goddamn trash!" Abbie took a breath as Ichabod put a calming hand on her shoulder, "I don't know why you called us here. There's nothing I can do to help you. And even if I could, I wouldn't." Abbie turned to her partner, "Let's go."

Upstairs, Morales glared from his desk. As a sign of goodwill, Abbie said loudly, "Well, that was a waste of time! You can keep the case, Morales! Crane and I have got enough problems to deal with." Ichabod barely managed to snatch his coffee off of the desk before Abbie dragged him out of the office.

"So where do you think she went?" Abbie asked Ichabod as she and Ichabod went to her car.

Ichabod took a sip of the coffee before joining Abbie in the car. "Ms. Danvers? I haven't the slightest idea."

"If you were completely distraught that you'd just lost a loved one, where would you go?" Abbie asked. As the words carelessly tumbled out of her mouth, she realized what she'd said. Ichabod was in that situation. He was stuck there every day that he was without Katrina. "Ichabod, I didn't mean to—"

"No, no. It's alright, Lieutenant." There it was again; the formalities were back. "I can understand her mindset because we are in a similar situation." Abbie watched as Ichabod closed his eyes, relaxing as he went through his thoughts.

Suddenly, there was a sharp RAP on the window. Both Ichabod and Abbie nearly jumped out of their seats at the sound. It was Morales. He motioned for Abbie to roll down the window. Once she did, he said, "There's some kind of disturbance being reported at Reverend Knapp's old church. Captain wants you two to check it out. I told him you're not uniforms, but—"

Abbie cut him off by holding up her hand, "We're on it."

"A child?" Ichabod asked, confused as they pulled up to the old Dutch church. "I thought that Detective Morales mentioned a 'disturbance?'" The small boy at the top of the steps of the church turned around as if he'd heard what Ichabod had said. He smiled. It would have been adorable if his eyes weren't completely black and strips of his flesh weren't rotting away.

"Not a child. Definitely not a child!" Abbie took her gun from the holster and Crane took his from the glove compartment before they both exited the car. "Hands in the air!" Abbie ordered aiming her gun at the creature.

It smiled a smile full of black rotting teeth. The teeth began to fall to the ground as Ichabod and Abbie watched; sharp, jagged teeth grew in their place. The remaining flesh tore away to reveal red and black skin. The form grew and grew until it was towering over Ichabod's height. "My God." Ichabod whispered, taking aim from behind the car.

The demon growled low and smiled again. "No God." Ichabod and Abbie fired repeatedly. Their bullets landed all over the demon, spraying blood and bits of skin everywhere, but it didn't seem to notice. It came closer in slow, measured steps.

Abbie called to Ichabod, "Something else is coming from inside!"

Abbie could only see the shadow at first. Johanna Danvers stepped into the moonlight holding a vicious looking dagger, poised to fight. "Oi! I'm over here! I'm the one you want!"

"It is not I that wants you, Johanna Danversssss." The demon hissed, stepping into the pile of its disregarded skin as it turned to focus on Johanna. "Moloch."

Moloch. The same demon that held Ichabod's wife hostage for the Horseman. The same demon that had ordered his death all those years ago.

"Oh yeah?" Johanna seemed unfazed by this. She even had the cheek to twirl the dagger. Abbie watched as Johanna continued to distract the demon with the blade. "Well, you can tell Moloch that he can go fuck himself." Johanna threw the dagger at the demon with a deadly precision. It lodged itself in the demon's throat, spouting blood. The demon howled in pain, like 10,000 nails on a chalkboard. It yanked the blade from its throat and threw it to the ground. The wound was smoking.

"St. Eligius sends his regards." Johanna spat on the demon as it writhed in pain before it disappeared in a mess of smoke that smelled like sulfur. Johanna retrieved the knife from the ground and pulled something from the hilt and put it into her pocket. The blade disappeared back into what now resembled a crucifix.

"Did you kill it?" Abbie asked, not able to stand the silence as they all stared at each other. She and Ichabod in awe, but Johanna's expression was more akin to amusement.

"No." She said simply, walking to her car and putting the crucifix carefully into a velvet case full of other deadly weapons. Before Johanna shut the trunk, Abbie was able to spot a morningstar, a broadsword, a rifle, and a set of sais. Johanna and her sister would be the best of friends, judging by their respective weapons collections. "I wounded it. Why are you here?"

"We received a call about a disturbance." Ichabod said simply.

"You received a call about a disturbance?" Johanna laughed, crossing her arms as she leaned on her trunk. "Do you always talk like you're two hundred years old?"

"I am two hundred years old." Johanna raised an eyebrow, not saying anything. Ichabod continued. "I know that you probably think that I am insane. Abbie thought the same when we first became acquainted—"

"So am I." Ichabod stopped dead at Johanna's words.

Abbie was sure that her jaw hit the floor at that moment. "You're two hundred years old?"

Johanna shrugged, "Give or take a few decades." After a moment, Johanna hopped off of her car and came closer, "What do you say we team up? I want revenge and you two obviously want something…"

"Miss Mills and I are destined to be Witnesses; we are to avert the apocalypse."

"Is this how he always talks?" Johanna asked Abbie incredulously.

Abbie gave a relieved smile, "Welcome to my life."

* * *

**Feedback is welcome. Any questions or comments, leave them in the reviews and I will respond accordingly.**

**xoxo - Vivienne-Devereaux**


	3. Chapter 3

**Thanks to all who reviewed/favorited/followed.**

* * *

Cold.

It was the brisk, misty morning that made Johanna's hair frizz from the clip she had secured it in before she'd gone to visit Father Knapp's grave. The sun had yet to rise, but there were tiny rays of orange and pink that were leaking over the horizon. Johanna shivered involuntarily as she stared down at the emotionless metal nameplate; it would be a few weeks before the simple headstone that the sisters had chosen would be installed. The dirt mound had tiny bits of baby grass trying to work its way up through the dust, struggling for life in a cemetery. How ironic.

Johanna laid the single black orchid down vertically on his grave. Father Knapp would have liked it; he'd believed that the simplest things were the most beautiful. She gave her silent goodbye as a single tear fell from her eye. It would be the last tear that Jo would cry for Father Knapp. "Life must go on." She murmured. Johanna sent a tiny bolt of power from her fingertip. It hit the dirt silently, springing up little bristles of fresh, green grass from where her tear fell, until the grave was covered. Johanna turned to leave and didn't look back.

Johanna returned to her motel room to ready herself once again for the arranged meeting with Lieutenant Mills and Ichabod for breakfast. She knew that they wanted to evaluate her, to find out if they could indeed trust her. Abbie had mentioned something about a warning from another witch before they'd left, but didn't elaborate. Johanna looked to the jar of lamb's blood resting on the seat of the closed toilet. Jo was ready to meet this 'other witch.' She wanted to know exactly who and what she was dealing with.

Smoothing back her hair, Johanna stared into the mirror as she opened the jar. She winced at the smell of the blood as she dipped her finger into the cold, red liquid. It was denser than she remembered. With two fingers, she drew the sigil for a summoning; it was sort of like a backwards 'S' mixed with a backwards 'Z,' coupled with a circle right through the middle of the symbol. Johanna rinsed the blood from her hand and closed the jar, placing it back onto the toilet lid.

When she looked back up, it wasn't her own reflection staring back at her. It was a pale, redheaded woman wearing an old fashioned black dress and a rather confused expression. From the look of the denizens lurking around her in the wood, she was in a different realm. "You warned the Witnesses against me." Johanna accused.

"Yes. I warned them against you because I do not know of your intention." The witch spoke with an accent not unlike Johanna's own. An eerie wind rustled through her hair as the shadowy figures shuffled in the background.

"That makes two of us." Johanna said, rolling her eyes.

"What coven do you affiliate with?"

"I don't. I'm alone." As the words fell out of her mouth, Johanna truly felt them. She was alone. She was always alone. There was something about this woman though, that made her feel like she'd finally found a kindred spirit. "Where are you?"

"Purgatory."

"My condolences." Johanna nodded solemnly, "I assume that you care about the Witnesses, yeah? How's about you keep the cryptic warnings to yourself next time, until you find out the real depth of the situation?"

"Moloch must be stopped." The woman's head whipped around at the louder rustling to her left. "I did what I believed was right." Her voice was becoming echo-y now. Johanna was losing the connection.

"So did Hitler." Obviously a reference that the woman didn't understand. "Let me put this to you straight: I don't want to save the world. All I bloody care about is revenge."

"Please! You must help them! They must stop the Horseman, else the future will be ruin." All at once, Johanna felt sympathy for the poor soul. She'd been trapped for God knows how long in that awful place and had just been trying help. In all of Johanna's years, she'd learned one thing for certain. You can't help everyone. "He's coming! You must go!" Suddenly, Johanna was back to staring at her own reflection in a blood-streaked mirror.

Her eyes were rimmed with red and tiny blood vessels had burst in her eyes. She looked gaunt, almost ill. The tiny spell and the fight the previous night had all-but-drained her. Without a coven and complete control over her magic, not to mention her emotional state, Johanna was completely depleted.

Two thoughts came to her.

One: Sugar. She needed sugar.

Two: The witch had severed the connection to save Johanna.

Guilt overpowered all other feelings, including fatigue, for a brief moment. For just an instant, Johanna felt the rage, fear, and sorrow fade away into the background as she realized that the woman had kept her save. The witch had saved Johanna, a stranger and potential threat, at the cost of her own well-being.

And she didn't even know her name.

* * *

"I take it you don't believe Ms. Danvers's story?" Ichabod and Abbie were waiting in the car outside of the diner. It was the same diner that Sheriff Corbin had always taken Abbie to after she'd had a change of heart. "Not that it is so far-fetched, considering my own origin story."

Abbie looked away from the diner, "Nope." She said simply, popping the 'p' on her lips. "I want to keep this simple; don't be giving her too many details yet." They'd arranged to meet Johanna Danvers for breakfast after she'd saved Abbie and Ichabod from the demon at the church. Abbie wanted to know exactly how much Johanna knew before they went about sharing anything. Johanna could be the 'powerful witch' that Katrina had warned about. Then again, powerful didn't exactly mean evil…powerful did mean corruptible…

"Understood." Ichabod and Abbie exited the car, crossing the street and brushing beside Johanna's old, black, Dodge Charger as they went to the doors of the diner. Ichabod noticed a jar of something on the floorboard of the back of her car. It was full of a dark, red liquid. "Lieutenant?" Crane tapped on the window at the jar.

"That'd better not be blood." Abbie said before yanking Ichabod away from the car. Ichabod made sure to hold open the door to her, ignoring the little glare that she playfully sent his way.

They found Johanna waiting in one of the booths, her nose buried in a menu as a young waitress chewed on her pen, waiting impatiently for Johanna to order. "I would like…" The witch pursed her lips as she set the menu down on the table, "…three pancakes, sides of bacon, maple syrup, and peanut butter. Oh, and a slice of the chocolate pie."

The waitress scribbled down Johanna's order and snatched the menu off of the table with a moody, "Anything else?"

Johanna, who was looking a little worse for wear, looked to Abbie and Ichabod, who were standing awkwardly to the side. "We'll both just have coffee."

"Does your establishment have any donut holes?" Abbie tried to hide her smile as Ichabod asked.

The waitress rolled her eyes, pointing to a glass container filled with glazed donuts, "We've got whole donuts. You want one with your coffee?"

Ichabod gestured for Abbie to sit, "If it wouldn't be too much trouble." With a sigh, the waitress slouched off.

"You ordered pie at seven o'clock in the morning." Abbie observed, watching as the waitress went to get the slice of pie.

"Yes. The spell that I did last night took more out of me than I expected." Johanna shrugged, taking a sip of her glass of ice water. "Sugar helps." The waitress returned without speaking and put the plate of French Silk pie in front of Johanna. The witch unwrapped her silverware and put the napkin on her lap. Abbie and Ichabod watched in fascination as the petite woman cut a large chunk off of the end, dipped it into the puff of whipped cream, and stuffed it into her mouth. Through her next mouthful of pie, Johanna began, "Who exactly are you two?"

"How about a rule?" Abbie suggested, "You ask a question, then we ask a question?"

Johanna smiled, pointing to Abbie with her chocolate covered fork, "Fair enough. Now answer mine." She took another bite of pie.

Abbie took a breath to begin their spiel, but Ichabod beat her to it. "Lieutenant Mills and I are Witnesses, as I afore mentioned; Witnesses to the coming apocalypse noted in the Book of Revelation."

"Mmm. You mentioned that bit last night." Johanna scooped a bit of whipped cream up with her finger, "An apocalypse of Biblical proportions."

The unhappy waitress returned with their coffee and Ichabod's donut. "We've faced several dangers in the recent weeks; disease, demons, spells…And then we were warned about you." Abbie kicked him underneath the table and he winced.

Ichabod opted to take a bite of the pastry, instead letting Abbie lead with the rest of their story, "I'm a Lieutenant with the Sleepy Hollow Police Department and Ichabod is my consultant for the time being. My turn." Abbie ripped open a packet of sugar and dumped it into her coffee as Johanna finished her pie, "Are you immortal?"

"Yes and no. My body doesn't age, but I am definitely mortal in a sense that I can be killed." Johanna licked her fork, "How do you know about Moloch?"

Ichabod still had a mouthful of donut, and so Abbie continued the back and forth questioning with Johanna until her breakfast arrived, keeping it vague in case Johanna was not on their side. Ichabod licked his fingers clean as he finished the donut, before wiping his hands with the napkin. When he realized that the two women were staring at him, he said, "My apologies." Ichabod took a sip of coffee before asking, "Why are you without a coven?"

Johanna mopped up the remainder of the syrup with the last piece of bacon, "How'd you know?" The previously sweet maple syrup now had a bitter tang to it.

"The food." Ichabod said simply, "You don't have the strength of a coven to fall back on."

Johanna sucked air in through her teeth sharply, "I don't have a coven because—well, they're dead. I didn't kill them, at least not directly." At Abbie and Ichabod's confused expressions, Johanna elaborated, "Long story short: I had to choose between my coven and my husband. I chose my husband, but he didn't choose me. It's as simple as that."

There was an awkward silence after that. Luckily, it was broken by the ring of Abbie's cell phone. She answered it, "Lieutenant Mills."

It was Morales voice that greeted her from the other end, "Mills, you need to get in here now." His voice was a mixture of anger and confusion.

"What is it? What's going on?" When Morales didn't finish, Abbie prompted, "Luke, what is it?"

"My suspect that you were called in for last night, Gerry Mason. He's dead."

Johanna had insisted on coming along if they were going to work together. Abbie was reluctant to share all of the details of the case with her, but there was something about her that made Ichabod want to trust Johanna; and so Abbie was going to make an effort to do the same, so long as she proved truthful and worthy of their trust.

The usual morning bustle at the police station had morphed into chaos as Abbie, Ichabod and Johanna arrived. The phones were ringing nonstop, several of the uniformed officers were running about. There were shouts about extra security as the trio entered the lobby. Wendy, the receptionist, was wide-eyed as she shakily sorted through files and memos, delivering her statement to Morales at the same time.

Luke caught Abbie just as they entered the bullpen, "I've got something to show you before you head downstairs." He glared at Ichabod and then looked to Johanna, "Crane. I take it she's a consultant too?"

"Just go with it." Johanna said, "What did you need to show us?"

"I got ahold of the security disks for downstairs." Luke led them over to his desk and clicked his mouse a few times to pull the computer out of resting mode. The screen blinked to life and Luke clicked on a file. A video feed began to play in fast-motion.

On the screen, it showed Gerry Mason. Gerry paced back and forth in his cell, every so often, he would sit down and put his head in his hands. After a few moments, something changed. "Okay, so this guy enters, hood up." Luke pointed to the hooded figure with a pen as he strolled across the screen, stopping in front of Gerry Mason's holding cell.

He got to his feet and went to the bars. This was a mistake. Unfortunately for Gerry, it would be the last mistake he ever made. The man suddenly grabbed Gerry by the throat, pulling at the man through the bars. Gerry clawed and kicked at his attacker, but it was no use. Gerry did manage to pull his attacker's hood down. This man looked _exactly _like Gerry Mason…but Gerry Mason was in the cell.

"Are you seeing what I'm seeing?" Abbie asked no one in particular.

"They look exactly alike." Ichabod said in awe.

"A doppelganger." Johanna muttered.

Gerry Mason seemed to be asking the same question as Abbie. Suddenly, the doppelganger braced himself on the bars with one hand and yanked roughly at Gerry's neck. Abbie could almost hear Gerry's neck snap. As soon as the man released Gerry, Gerry's lifeless body crumpled to the floor in a heap. The man looked directly up at the camera and smiled before mouthing something that Abbie didn't catch. He paused to put his hood back up and left through the office door.

"Go back, go back; he said something. Can you do that?" Ichabod asked, confused. Luke threw him an odd look before rewinding the video and setting it to normal speed. Luke zoomed the video in to the perp's face, but it turned out to be a little grainy. He hit play. "There!" Ichabod looked from Johanna to Abbie, "Did you see?"

Both women gave the same answer, "No."

"Play it again." Ichabod said excitedly, mouthing the words along with the doppelganger.

"Crane, Mills! My office, now!" The Captain called from across the station. Johanna followed in suit, catching the door just as it was about to close.

"She's here to help." Abbie said at the Captain's confused look when he saw Johanna.

As soon as the door was shut, the Captain asked, "I take it you've seen the footage from Gerry Mason's holding cell."

Ichabod said, "The murderer said, 'Moloch wird auferstehen.'"

"I assume you know what that means." Abbie said, raising an eyebrow at her partner, who was practically hopping up and down with excitement. She looked to Johanna, "All I got was the 'Moloch' part."

"It means—" Ichabod began, but Johanna interrupted him.

"Moloch will rise again."

* * *

**Read, Relax, Review, etc. **

**A/N: Final Exams are approaching, so I don't know exactly when I will be able to post the next chapter.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Apologies for the wait.**

* * *

"Blah blah blah." Johanna said as the trio travelled down the stairs to the holding cell-slash-makeshift-crime-scene, "All the baddies have been singing the same song for years and it hasn't happened yet."

"Yet." Abbie chimed in.

"Pessimist." Johanna said, not bothering to hold onto the door as it almost slammed on Abbie, who was able to catch it just in time.

Gerry Mason, a ginger haired young man was sprawled on the floor, neck broken. Technically, if one were to look at the footage on record, it would appear that Gerry Mason had killed himself, which technically he had. But then again, it hadn't really been him, just someone who looked exactly like poor Gerry. His neck was at an odd angle from the break; the bones were nearly jutting out through the skin at the front of his neck. The cell had been opened and there were a few blue suited forensic scientists taking samples and examining the body as Ichabod, Abbie, and Johanna entered the holding room.

"Can we clear the room, Lieutenant? There may be a few _sensitive_ pieces of evidence." Ichabod suggested as he held the cell door further for Abbie and Johanna.

Abbie looked around, waiting for the workers to respond. They all looked to her, as if to wonder who really had the authority. "You heard the man. Clear the room!" The Captain had followed them down to the crime scene. The forensic investigators all scrambled to their feet and out of the room, edging past Captain Irving as he watched on seriously until the room was free.

Abbie tossed sets of gloves to Irving, Johanna, and Crane before putting on a set, herself, and getting to work. Johanna struggled with hers, muttering something about 'going commando' before Abbie blew into a pair of gloves for her and shoved them at her. Johanna smiled, "Oh, we're gonna get on great, you and me." She knelt down beside the body, examining the neck carefully. Johanna ran her hand lightly down the center of his neck; there was something there besides the bone. "I'm not being funny, but there's something wrong with his neck."

"Of course there is; it's broken." Irving said, almost in passing.

Abbie rolled her eyes, looking to Johanna, "Rock-paper-scissors for who gets to stick their hand down Gerry's throat."

Johanna wrinkled her nose, "Best two out of three."

Before the women had finished the first round, Ichabod had propped the victim's head up and was struggling to pull something out of his throat.

When it finally came free with an awful squishing sound, it was revealed to be a silver pendant secured by a leather tassel. Pentagrams and other symbols were etched into the silver, and inset into the center was a single red ruby. There were tiny scores of blood across the silver; a few drops fell to the floor as Ichabod got to his feet. "Oh dear."

"What is it?" Abbie asked as everyone peered at the pendant.

Ichabod spoke softly, "It's the symbol for Katrina's coven; The Sisterhood of the Radiant Heart."

"Katrina?" Johanna didn't recognize the name.

"My wife." Ichabod said simply, "We must go to Mr. Mason's residence."

"Katrina was your wife?" Johanna asked curiously as she and Ichabod watched Abbie peel away the crime scene tape and set about opening the door a while later.

"Yes." Ichabod said without missing a beat, "She was my wife."

"And how did that work out?" At the strange look, Johanna clarified, "With her being a witch and all."

"I didn't know." Johanna could see the sadness in his eyes as he said those three simple words.

The door opened to reveal a quaint little home. It looked completely normal, save the massive bloodstains on the carpet and streaks of dried blood on the walls. There were overused couches populating the living room, a tiny breakfast table in the kitchen, and even a few bits of mail scattered around on the counter. The picture of normality. Almost.

Abbie shut the door behind them and clicked on the lights. "Okay, so what are we looking for?"

"Dead chickens, gris gris, severed heads…you know, the usual." Johanna said with a wink as she disappeared into the hallway.

"Anything out of the ordinary should suffice." Ichabod said, slightly amused as he began to thumb through the small bookshelf in the living room.

Abbie went into the bathroom, looking through the mirrored cabinet at the medicines and other items. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

Suddenly, there was the loud noise of footfalls on the beat-up hardwood floor.

Abbie darted out of the bathroom just in time to watch Johanna go flying across the room, via Gerry Mason. Or rather, Gerry Mason's doppelganger. Johanna smashed into the breakfast table, sending things flying every which way; it collapsed beneath her. Abbie drew her gun, daringly looking the creature right in the eye.

CRACK.

Ichabod had hit the creature across the head with a baseball bat. The blow didn't even phase the creature. It turned around to face Ichabod and threw him into the bookcase with an unholy roar. Books and pages went flying everywhere as Ichabod smashed into the case. Out of the corner of her eye, Abbie could see Johanna struggling to get to her feet. There was a massive amount of blood running down Johanna's face from where her head had connected with the wall. Ichabod was struggling as well; their respective impacts had knocked them senseless.

There was something about the creature's eyes. Something beneath them was beautiful, bright, hypnotic…

Seconds, minutes, hours, years seemed to pass…

Breathing suddenly seemed trivial.

"Abbie!" The call of her name ripped her from her mesmerized state.

_Jenny was here. How did Jenny get here?_

Blood splattered Abbie's face as a bullet tore through the doppelganger's head.

Only when Jenny was helping Abbie to her feet, did Abbie realize that the doppelganger had been choking the life out of her. As she struggled to catch her breath, Abbie notice Ichabod rushing to their side. Johanna set up the only surviving chair and was now lounging in it, still covered in blood.

"Are you alright, Ms. Danvers?" Ichabod asked, once he'd made sure that Jenny had ahold of Abbie.

"Quite." She gave him a sarcastic salute, "And it's Johanna, or Jo, if you like."

At this, Jenny's concern for her sister seemed to fade as she looked to Johanna. "You."

"Me?" Johanna frowned confused as Jenny came toward her; not that the head wound was helping.

"You!" Jenny repeated, proceeding to punch Johanna solidly in the face. She took the witch by the lapels of her jacket, "You stole my grimoire!"

Although her nose was bleeding like no other, her head was pounding, and she was exhausted, Johanna managed to work in some cheek. "I've stolen a lot of things from a lot of people. Jenny, is it?" Johanna smiled, "You're gonna have to be a bit more specific."

Ichabod and Abbie were trying to pry the two apart, but Jenny wasn't having any of it. "Kiev, Ukraine, 2006."

Johanna began to laugh, "Oh, was that you?" She laughed again, "I'm gonna let you in on a little secret, love. You can't steal what was yours in the first place." Johanna succeeded in shoving Jenny roughly away from her. Abbie, however rattled she was, didn't show it as she wrapped her arms around her sister to keep her from attacking Johanna.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Jenny snarled angrily, pushing her sister off of her.

"It's in the past. Let's talk about now. Hm?" Johanna crossed her arms, "Why'd you shoot him in the head? We need to question him."

"He was killing my sister! What was I supposed to do?" Jenny put away her gun, "And so what if I'd shot him in the chest?" She shrugged, "He'd still be just as dead."

"True. But he'd be much easier to communicate with." Johanna hopped off of the chair and pushed her broken nose back into place as it healed.

She was wiping the blood from her forehead as Ichabod realized, "You're going to summon him."

"No." Johanna smiled, "I'm going to raise the dead."

"You're going to resurrect him?" Abbie said incredulously as she put her own gun away, keeping one eye on her sister. "Didn't you say earlier that you weren't as powerful without a coven?"

Johanna straightened her clothes and walked outside. The others followed in suit as she looked up at the sky. The moon was half obscured in the starless night sky. "I'll just have to draw on something more powerful then, won't I?"

* * *

**_1782_**

Birth. Life. Death. The lifelines that had been running together for all of time had converged on one moment.

This moment.

Katrina Crane had to abandon her only child.

As she held little Johanna in her arms for what would be the final time, soft, silent tears fell from her face as she stroked Johanna. The child of two months clutched at her mother's hand with a frightening grip. Johanna's little mind couldn't comprehend what was about to happen, but somehow, she knew. She knew that her world was to forever change. "I know that you do not understand what is about to happen. For years to come, you will not understand." Katrina placed a tender kiss on her daughter's forehead, "But know this. You are loved."

"Mrs. Crane." Reverend Knapp beckoned, "It's time."

Knapp was a sweet man and the only one in the coven that she could presently trust. Katrina reluctantly gave the child to Knapp; Johanna started to whimper. Katrina couldn't stop the involuntary whisper of "no" that escaped her lips. She couldn't comfort her child. It was her job, her purpose, to be a mother. But it could not be.

Soft, warm light illuminated the altar as Reverend Knapp put Johanna onto the cold stone. Almost at once, Johanna began to cry. It was as if she knew what was about to happen. Knapp was about to sever the connection between mother and child.

It had to be done to protect the child. Katrina's own life meant nothing. Nothing in comparison to Johanna's. Johanna was the last piece of Ichabod that was left until her would rise again. It was her duty as a witch and as a mother to protect this child with her life. Even if it meant cutting the child from it.

As Reverend Knapp began the chant, Johanna's cries turned to screams. Screams of pain and fear and sadness. Screams of yearning and a hollow heart.

Katrina could see the moonless night sky as the lunar eclipse was at its most powerful. She focused on the tiny, twinkling stars, trying to ignore Johanna's screams as the spell reached the height of its power. The candles that had cast their light on the church began to extinguish one by one until they were in total darkness, save the stars. Katrina could feel the tearing in her own heart as a piece was suddenly gone. She would forever feel empty.

The spell waned with Johanna's cries. Silent tears continued to trail down Katrina's face. Reverend Knapp took Katrina's daughter in his arms and said, "She will have a good home; a gentle home away from this madness."

"I trust that she will be well looked after, Reverend." Katrina said before turning away and never looking back.

As soon as Katrina was outside of the church, her tears stopped. She knew that if she hadn't stopped crying then, she never would. Katrina continued her walk, cutting through the woods to pass over her husband's grave for what would be the final time. "She is safe, my love."

Weeks later, Katrina couldn't help but go to the Reverend for news of her daughter. The severed connection would keep her daughter hidden from the coven, but Katrina had to know of her life. She couldn't simply forget her daughter.

"I'm sorry, Mrs. Crane. I made you a promise and I intend to keep it." Reverend Knapp said as he began lighting one of the candelabras. "I will do what is best for the girl." He said solemnly, lighting the last candle.

Katrina followed Knapp to the altar as he knelt to pray. She pleaded but Knapp ignored her, "Please. I need to know that she is—"

BANG.

The doors to the sanctuary flew open and an unholy gust of wind went blowing through the room, extinguishing all of the candles that had been lit. From the darkness of the night came The Sisters of the Radiant Heart. Their flowing black and red robes, shown by their rank within the coven, obscured their faces and dresses as they entered the sanctuary.

"Katrina Crane." The whispers came from all around as the Sisters circled her. Knapp remained at the altar in prayer. "You are our sister no more."

Katrina felt the blood drain from her face as the witches seized her roughly by her arms. She yelled, "Reverend! Reverend help me!" The Sisters dragged her from the church as she kicked and shoved at their cloaked forms. "Please!"

"I am doing what is best for her." The Reverend whispered, eyes still shut to the chaos that was befalling Katrina. The closing of the doors echoed throughout the church and the flames were lit once again. "I am doing what is best."  
As soon as her feet hit the ground outside of the church gates, Katrina began gathering her power. She could feel it sparking through her body and the anger and rage rolled through her like wildfire. One witch, Sister Cassandra, was carrying a bloody blanket with a silent form encased inside. Near the fringe of the blanket were the letters JC.

Katrina screamed. She could feel the Sisters tearing at her arms as she fought to get away and run to the blanket. Her daughter. Her little girl was dead.

Flames licked from her fingertips, enveloping one of the Sisters completely before the others even realized what was happening. _They will all burn._ One by one, blue flames appeared beneath each of the Sister's feet. Their screams were like music to Katrina's ears.

Her husband had been taken from her.

Her child had been taken from her.

All she wanted was revenge.

"Stop." Smoke was billowing out from the dirt road as four veiled figures approached.

Blood was running from her nose as Katrina ignored the command, crawling toward the bloody blanket. "Katrina Crane you will-"

Four white faces surrounded her as she was pinned to the ground by their magic, "-burn as you burned-"

"-your sisters forever trapped-" The Four Who Speak As One.

"-in purgatory." They all smiled an evil smile, with their sharp, demonic teeth. The smoke continued to envelop them, obscuring Katrina's vision entirely.

When she could finally see again, Katrina's hands were secured behind her back. She was tied to an upturned piece of wood a few feet above the ground. Tinder brushed at her feet as she struggled to see around her. Katrina could hear the soft crackle as flames licked at the sides of the pyre. Smoke began to roll up in waves, making her eyes water. It definitely wasn't tears. She didn't have any left.

In the end, Katrina welcomed death.

Death would give her time.

And time would allow her victory.

* * *

**Thanks to everyone who's stuck with me so far on this wild ride. Hope you all enjoyed the chapter.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Thanks for sticking with me, readers. The Christmas Season is a very busy time for me. Apologies for not updating sooner.**

* * *

_**Moscow, Russia, 1999**_

_She should be dead. They should all be dead._

Johanna's mind was spinning out of control at a rate that she had yet to catch up with. Not that she had the time. Johanna struggled to pull the weighted rubble off of herself as she lay in the cold mud. Jo wheezed for breath as smoke filled her lungs. Dozens of emotions were running through her body all at once; fear, regret, pain, anger, sorrow, confusion...

Johanna had just killed her own coven.

Through the pain and disorientation, Jo could hear someone calling her name.

"Here! I'm here." She tried to yell back, not even sure if the words managed to force themselves out of her mouth.

"Dear God—" The familiar Irish brogue was nearly unintelligible as Henry began throwing away the fallen pieces of rafters and shingles that had collapsed in on his wife. He pulled her frantically from the ruins to reveal an ash-stained, blood covered face. "Jo!" Henry held Johanna's head up as it lolled to the side, threatening to tug her away into unconsciousness. "What happened? You have to tell me what happened!"

"Mphn's kennn." Was all she managed to say at first. Oh. That was why she'd been so confused about speaking earlier. Johanna's jaw was broken. It would be a few moments before the healing began and she could explain what had happened.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she didn't want to tell Henry what had befallen the coven because the answer was right in front of him. She'd killed them. All of them. Johanna had done what Henry could not. He'd let his emotional and personal ties to the members of the Tribe of Ankou cloud his duty. Henry been a member of the Tribe for his entire life; he'd been akin to a diplomat when Johanna had come to meet him in 1801 at the mere age of 19. She'd joined after their marriage two years later.

Henry left her to check on what Johanna knew were corpses. She could practically feel his pain as he went from one charred body to the next, frantically searching for any signs of life.

"Dead. They're all dead." Henry said, returning to her side as he ran a hand anxiously through his curly, brown hair. He began inspecting her wounds, gently taking her face in his hands as he turned it from side to side. Though his hands were shaking, Jo could tell that he was trying to keep it together for her sake. "Are you alright, Jo? Nothing permanent?"

When she could finally speak, Johanna gently took his hands from her face, saying sadly as an answer to both questions, "No." She winced as a few of her ribs popped back into place as he tried to lead her from the chaos, "Henry. Henry, I need to explain."

"Explain?"

"This had to be done."

Henry stopped abruptly, unmoving. His next words came as a near-whisper, "Are you telling me that you had something to do with this?"

Johanna spoke her next words almost without breathing. "I had everything to do with this." Her husband remained still, not bothering to look back at her. Johanna could feel the rage radiating off of him in waves. She braced herself. Not because she thought that Henry would hit her, he would never do that, but because she knew what was coming next.

"How?" He growled, eyes blazing as he turned abruptly and seized her by her shoulders.

"The full moon." The shining orb in question was the only light besides the remnants of a dying fire started by the anarchy that Johanna had created.

"Why?"

"You know why!" Johanna screamed, unable to keep her own rage contained. She shoved him away roughly, "How could you let them do this? How could you be a part of this?"

The fire was growing, spreading to the remnants of the foundations of the building as Johanna's powers fed the flames. The blue fire licked up the sides of the framed walls, slowly crackling their way in Henry's direction, as he was the reason for her rage. The smell of burnt flesh as the corpses were all consumed in fire filled her nostrils, making Johanna want to retch, but she kept her focus on her husband.

"Children, Henry. They were sacrificing children!" The flames reached Henry, circling around his feet like an anxious predator.

His face paled as he looked from the raging fire to his wife's face, "I didn't know."

In her disbelief, Johanna's fire lost its appetite and extinguished immediately with an otherworldly gust of wind. "You didn't know." She didn't know. Neither of them had known. Something akin to relief washed over her as she watched her broken husband try to find his bearings. Henry looked around the ruins, at his former companions, at the place he'd always known, and then to his wife.

Something inside of him had changed in those seconds. Johanna could see it. She knew what was coming next.

How could she have believed that Henry would knowingly sacrifice children for his coven? Questions roared through her like angry waves crashing against a rocky shore as Henry spoke his next words. She didn't hear them. Johanna saw his lips move, but her ears were deaf in that moment.

She didn't understand what Henry had said until his grey smoke had already curled its way around his ankles, billowing up around his body and consumed his form. When it cleared, Henry was gone and his words became clear.

"Your place is no longer with me."

* * *

"Open the trunk, Soldier Girl. Doppelganger here's bloody heavy." Johanna struggled to keep ahold of the corpse outside of Abbie's car.

"Why don't you just use your magic, _Sabrina_?" Jenny rolled her eyes sarcastically as she opened the trunk, continuing to look on as Jo heaved the body up and into the car.

"_Sabrina?_" Johanna said incredulously as she shoved his feet ungracefully into the car and slammed the door. "I take that as an insult." She turned on Jenny, "Magic always comes with a price."

"Ladies!" Abbie snapped from the doorway like an annoyed parent, "Ichabod's got something."

Both women stared each other in the eye, as if daring one another to make the first move. Johanna winked, taking Jenny off guard. "I accept apologies in cash." Before Jenny could whip out a witty retort, Jo was already inside of the house.

Ichabod was kneeling over several open books on the floor when Johanna walked over the threshold. Behind him was the bookcase he'd been thrown into not twenty minutes earlier. "I noticed this title when I was searching through the volumes earlier." Ichabod explained , gesturing to a battered copy of _The Divine Comedy_. In the margins of the page, several scribbles were nearly undecipherable. There was one section that was highlighted and impossible to miss.

Johanna snatched up the book and snapped it shut before Abbie could read the section aloud. "You've got a body rotting in your car, Mills." She gave Ichabod a shrug as he glared on, "Not exactly the best time for a lesson in literature."

"The information in that book could be of importance!" Ichabod said loudly, trying to snatch the book back.

Johanna stepped out of his reach, practically hopping out of the door and onto the porch. Abbie shook her head incredulously as she and Jenny followed the arguing pair, "You've got to be kidding me."

"Just wait." Jenny said, leaning against the threshold as she crossed her arms, her face the picture of amusement, "You should've seen her when she stole the grimoire. She ran all the way down the yellow brick road and straight to the mental institution." Her sister wore a confused expression.

Jo continued to tease Ichabod, sitting on the hood of the car wearing a grin as wide as the Cheshire Cat's.

Jenny clarified. "That woman is batshit crazy."

Abbie caught on to the contagious nostalgia of their win against the doppelganger. She teased her sister in a sing-song voice. "Takes one to know one." Jenny smiled innocently before shoving her sister off of the porch. "What? Were you two on the same bus to crazy town?"

"She was driving it." Jenny said simply as she fished out the keys to her car and headed to the driver's side.

"Oh, are we finally going? Have all of our priorities in order?" Johanna said sarcastically, climbing off of the hood of the car and dancing out of Ichabod's reach one last time before climbing into the back seat of the car.

Johanna's words resonated in Abbie. Priorities. Johanna's priority was revenge and Abbie wasn't about to forget that any time soon.

She and Ichabod would have to watch their backs…

If it was in her favor, Abbie was certain that Johanna would be the one twisting the blade.

* * *

"_...those cries rose from among the twisted roots__  
__through which the spirits of the damned were slinking__  
__to hide from us. Therefore my Master said:__  
__'If you break off a twig, what you will learn__  
__will drive what you are thinking from your head.'__Puzzled, I raised my hand a bit and slowly__  
__broke off a branchlet from an enormous thorn:__  
__and the great trunk of it cried: 'Why do you break me?'__And after blood had darkened all the bowl__  
__of the wound, it cried again: 'Why do you tear me?__  
__Is there no pity left in any soul?"_

_From "Dante's Inferno" __**– Dante Alighieri**_

* * *

A haunted house. Ichabod and Abbie were truly in such a place. They'd set about rescuing Ms. Lena Gilbert, a socialite and billionaire when she'd gone missing. The concept of being a billionaire still baffled Ichabod. Abbie had prattled on about someone called Bill Gates and his enormous wealth when Ichabod had questioned how many billionaires existed. The ranks in which modern peoples put their values (love, money, property) astounded him.

Ichabod kept his arm around Ms. Gilbert, supporting her ill frame as Abbie raced about the room, trying to find an exit. The windows were locked tight, the door wouldn't budge, and there was a demonic woodland creature intent on killing them all.

Just another day in Sleepy Hollow.

* * *

**This one was a little short, but be prepared, dear readers. Revelations will be made in the coming chapters...**

**- xoxo Vivienne-Devereaux**


	6. Chapter 6

Fear had slowly been seeping its way into Katrina's veins since the labour pains had first begun. Now, it shocked Katrina to her core.

Not an hour earlier, she had stumbled into Fredericks Manor, her body wracked with pain that signaled the coming of her child. She'd just escaped her coven; they were hell-bent on punishing her for putting an enchantment on her husband. Katrina had admitted, she hadn't been thinking all that clearly when she'd enlisted in Father Knapp's help with the spell and she was desperate to save Ichabod. In all honesty, Katrina had solved two problems with one solution; the spell had preserved her husband and done away with the Horseman of Death. For now.

Now. Katrina had to focus on _now._

"Now!" Grace yelled, gently securing Katrina's feet as she pushed with all her might to force her baby into this world.

This world that was filled with evil. Evil knocking about the house, clawing at the windows, banging at the doors…

Katrina screamed, nearly drowning out the caws of the crows from outside, bracing herself on the two remaining housemaids as they held her arms in place. Katrina felt as if she were being ripped apart from the inside out. Sweat drenched her body, soaking through her gown and into the sheets as her tense body began to relax. Exhaustion threatened to claim her if Grace Dixon demanded that she push again.

And then she heard it; a tiny cry, almost inaudible over the demonic racket that was being caused outside.

"It's a girl." Grace said, tearing up as she wiped the babe clean and gently handed her to her mother.

Katrina cradled her in her arms, stroking her face softly as she looked deeply into the girl's eyes. The pain was ebbing now. Katrina kissed her forehead, murmuring softly, "Johanna."

At once, there was a sharp cracking noise from the main floor of the house, followed by a sickening gurgle. Katrina could feel it as the hex lifted from the manor. What had once been a place of protection, a sanctuary, was now a hunting ground for the devil himself.

Katrina clutched Johanna tightly to her breast. She uttered a tiny cry as an unearthly growl shuddered throughout the entire house, shaking the floorboards and the walls.

Grace had taken a candelabrum and the two women were tugging her to her feet. One of the maids was forcing her into her shoes and dressing gown while the other secured the door to her room. With her arm tightly around Katrina for support, the maid tore a simple ribbon from her own neck and shoved it into Katrina's pocket. "For strength." She said simply, "It will get you out."

BANG.

BANG.

BANG.

Katrina could hear from the cellar as the creature broke through the door upstairs and tore through the two maids. They'd sacrificed themselves to help see Katrina and her newborn daughter to safety. Katrina wanted to offer up a prayer for them, but there was no time. Grace was beckoning her from outside of the tunnels, into the moonlight. Prayers would have to wait.

"This way." Grace said as she held the secret door open for mother and child, ushering them into the night.

A familiar face was waiting for the two as they set foot upon the dirt.

Father Knapp, eyes wide, held the door open to a carriage that was black as night. Grace helped Katrina into the carriage, taking Johanna from her for a brief moment before securing the door. Father Knapp wasted no time, climbing atop the carriage almost immediately and taking off from Fredericks Manor.

A howl ripped through the night as the carriage left the grounds. Katrina took the silk ribbon from her pocket and placed it into Johanna's tiny little fist as she began to cry.

They were safe from the creature and its hellions. For now.

* * *

"So, are you dating my dad?"

Jenny Mills looked up from her work, giving the blunt, wheelchair bound girl a raised eyebrow. This wasn't the kind of question Jenny was used to, let alone the work she was used to. She was used to getting her hands dirty, sure, but dirty usually mean elbow deep in some kind of gore, not flour. Jenny dusted her hands off into the bowl of dough, "For the thousandth time, no, Macey. I'm not dating your dad."

"Uh huh." Macey said with a smirk as she continued to stir the bowl of homemade pumpkin pie filling on her lap. The doorbell rang. Macey wheeled over to the doorway of the kitchen and looked through to the front door. Her father waved awkwardly from outside. "It's Dad."

Jenny rolled her eyes at the 'knowing' look that the young girl gave her. She flicked a bit of the dough at Macey as she called, "It's open!" Macey squealed, nearly dropping the bowl in the process of avoiding it. Captain Irving managed to save the bowl just as he walked through the door to the kitchen. "Nice one, Captain." Jenny said with a smile as she carefully dumped the dough onto the counter and began kneading it.

The Captain laughed awkwardly, "It's just 'Frank' tonight."

"Okay, Frank." Macey teased sarcastically, smacking her father out of the way to put the bowl onto the counter.

"Watch it, Missy." Frank said fondly, picking the specks of dough from his daughter's hair as she rolled past. Frank crossed his arms, leaning up against the doorjamb as he watched Jenny mixing what he assumed to be stuffing with all seriousness. It was absurd. Completely absurd. He couldn't help the almost involuntary laugh that escaped his mouth.

"What?" Jenny snapped, all at once back to the no-nonsense warrior that had confidently strolled into the police station a few weeks earlier. Frank simply shook his head, not-so-subtly covering his mouth. She rolled her eyes again, taking the whisks from the mixer and rinsing them in the sink. Jenny shook them dry before plugging them back into the mixer and handing them to Frank's daughter. "Here, mix the last of that up."

Jenny led Frank into the living room of Abbie's house that they now shared. Pictures of Sheriff Corbin and Abbie; her graduation, the two of them eating pie together, a rare photo of everyone on the force…

Once they were out of Macey's hearing range and the mixer powered on, Jenny began. "I am trying to have a nice Thanksgiving dinner, here."

"I understand that." Frank said, wiping the smile from his face.

"Where the hell is my sister? She and Ichabod were supposed to be here an hour ago." Jenny continued in a stage-whisper, "I wouldn't worry so much, without the whole _apocalypse-thing_, but they were bringing the wine!"

"Look '_apocalypse-thing _aside,'" Frank made air quotes around the words, "Ichabod and your sister are pretty good at getting themselves into trouble."

Jenny wasted no time, going straight past Frank and for the door, "But they're also very good at getting themselves out of it." He reassured her, "They're supposed to be following up on a lead, anyhow. Let's get you back to cooking so they can have a nice dinner when they decide to grace us with their presence." Frank went back into the kitchen, where Macey was struggling to hold onto the mixer and bowl at the same time. "Before Macey—"

The bowl went flying, sending spiced, pumpkin flavored gobs flying every which way. The mixer was still spinning, splattering more of the mixture on the cabinets, walls, and unfortunately Frank. He sighed, raising an eyebrow at his daughter, who was doing her best impression of innocence. "Too late."

* * *

It was the smacking of bubblegum that gave her away. "Ohmigod! Jo, I haven't seen you in forever!" Hadley ran to Johanna in her tiny little stilettos and practically tackled her to the ground.

The sickly sweet scent of the witch's gum filled her nostrils as she pulled away; Johanna gagged and forced a smile, "Forever hasn't been long enough."

Johanna had called on Hadley, one of the few witches that she socialized with on a regular occasion, when she'd decided to do the reanimation spell. Hadley was a century and a half old witch that was stuck in a teenager's body. She'd reached The Transcendence early and left the Tribe of Ankou soon after, in 1862.

And oh, did she play the part well. Somehow, Hadley had stuffed her blooming body into skintight jeans, a tiny, red halter top, and black patent Louboutins. With the shoes, she was a few inches taller than Johanna. _Dear God._ Hadley squeezed Johanna tighter before letting her go. "So? Resurrection, right?" She asked excitedly, hopping up and down, her shadow bouncing around on the asphalt in the light of the full moon.

"Reanimation." Jo corrected, resisting the urge to cringe as she led Hadley into the tunnels. Jenny had helped her drag the body down into what she called the 'interrogation room' earlier that day, muttering something not being able to help because of Turkey Day. Johanna hated holidays. They served as a reminder of how alone she was.

Johanna held the final door open for Hadley. She stepped past daintily, biting her lip as she surveyed the elaborately designed room. If she'd been a professional exorcist, she'd have thought she'd died and gone to Heaven. But then again, in Johanna's knowledge, most exorcists didn't end up in Heaven. The corpse was secured with leather belts to a wooden table. The smell of rot had already filled the room.

Hadley approached the body, examining the gunshot wound from this angle and that. She plugged her nose like a debutant and pulled a tiny bottle of some sort of perfume from her pocket and spritzed some over the body. Typical Hadley. She continued about the circular room, every so often spraying perfume until she was satisfied that the smell was gone. "So, what first?"

Johanna held a hand up, eyes watering from the smell. She could feel a sneeze coming on. Jo breathed through her mouth. There. It was gone. She cleared her throat, "I was just going to do a basic reanimation spell; temporary, of course."

Hadley scoffed, "Basic?" She crossed her arms, giving her best impression of a moody teenager, "Has the fact that your corpse, here, has a _gigantic_ hole in his head slipped your mind?" She took the pink gum from her mouth and stuck it on the stone wall of the room.

Jo raised an eyebrow, "That's why I waited until the full moon. And _gigantic_ isn't the word that I would use—"

"Most of his brains are missing, Jo!" Hadley took a cigarette from her pocket. She stared at it for a moment, her eyes blazed orange, and the cigarette was lit in an instant. Hadley blew lightly on the tip before taking a long drag. "When you said you needed help, I thought you were being modest."

"If you aren't gonna help, piss off." Johanna snatched the cigarette from Hadley's mouth, threw it to the ground, and stomped it out.

"Oooh, we're extra bitchy tonight, aren't we?" Hadley tutted, pushing Johanna out of the way and putting her hands onto the corpse's throat to begin the spell.

This kind of thing was Hadley's specialty, lucky for Johanna.

Hadley began humming low, shutting her eyes as Johanna stood at the corpse's head, putting her hands on either side of its skull. Johanna gritted her teeth as her fingers met something sticky and cold. _Ugh. Brains. _Jo could feel the power draining from her as the spell went on. Moments seemed like hours as Hadley reached out through the netherworlds to contact whatever creature had inhabited the body before them.

Suddenly, Hadley's eyes flew open. They weren't the usual deep brown color that Johanna was used to; they were bright white, clouded with grey. "Your friend, here, is in purgatory."

"Everyone and their bloody dogs are in purgatory." Johanna muttered.

Hadley tightened her grip as if she were choking the corpse. The body began to shudder as power was being forced into it, like it was being electrocuted. "Found him." Hadley said faintly. All of the color drained from Hadley as Johanna removed her hands. "Make this quick; the connection isn't very strong, thanks to that head wound." Hadley took the corpse by the jaws and forced its mouth open. Jo knew what was coming next.

Of everything she'd seen in her extremely long life. Slaughter, blood, gore, burned corpses, flayed living…this ritual was the worst. The spirit of whoever, or in this case, whatever, was being brought back had to pass through the witch that was leading the ritual.

Hadley's body began to lurch as if she were about to retch. She lowered her face over the doppelganger's and opened her mouth. Black smoke began pouring out, falling into the doppelganger's mouth unceremoniously in great tendrils. It stained the creature's teeth as Hadley pulled away and the last bits of the smoke found its way into the doppelganger. As suddenly as it began, the shuddering stopped.

Hadley wiped her mouth, eyes fading back to their normal color as the spell subsided. She took another stick of gum from her pocket and stuffed it into her mouth. She resumed smacking before she spoke, "It didn't take."

"Didn't take?" Johanna had only seen this done twice before.

Before the words were even out of Jo's mouth, Hadley was pounding on the chest of the corpse with her fists. It was like watching a demented person perform CPR.

A long, ragged, gasping breath silenced both witches. The eyes of the corpse slowly opened. One eye was completely filled with blood, blocking out the iris, while the other was clear. After some delayed blinking, they turned to focus on Johanna. "Yoooooouuuuu." The corpse rasped breathlessly.

The downside of not completely resurrecting the creature was that it wasn't alive. And non-living creatures did not breathe.

It gasped for breath again, a horrible, wet sound. "Puuuuuutttttt meeeeeeee baaaaaaaaccckkk."

"I have no sympathy for the devil." Johanna said, keeping her distance as the creature writhed in its binds. Johanna glanced at Hadley, who motioned for her to continue. "Answer my questions and we'll send you back." In response, the creature made a low, almost purring sound. "Who is Moloch?"

The corpse's lips drew upward in a smile, revealing its rotted, blackened teeth, "The Architect of the Rapture."

Hadley unwaveringly nudged Jo with her elbow, saying quietly, "He's got a flair for the dramatic, doesn't he?"

"Neeeeeeeexxxxxxxttttt quessssssssssssssstion." Another wheezing breath.

"Where is the horseman?"

"Nexxxxxt." Shorter this time, almost like it was annoyed with her.

"Where is the horseman?" Johanna repeated, louder this time.

The doppelganger began thrashing, shaking the table as it screamed, "NEXT QUESTION!"

The silence that came next was so clear that you could have heard a pin drop.

Johanna took a breath, "Why did it kill my father?"

Laughter bubbled up from its chest, turning to a disgusting gurgle as it ended. "It did not kill your faaaaather." The creature spat.

In anger, Johanna rushed forward, seizing the creature by the neck, "Tell me why!" She screamed as Hadley clawed at her shoulders, trying to pull her away.

"Jo, stop!"

"Your father is not dead."

Hadley forced her away, holding her fast in a tight grip so that she could not get away. "Father Knapp is dead!"

"Dead! Ha! But he was not your faaaaather." It hissed again, ending in the death gurgle again. "Your faaaaaather and your moooooooother!" The corpse laughed harshly as tremors began to wrack its body again.

Johanna broke out of Hadley's grip just in time as the creature faded away. Johanna turned on Hadley, "Bring it back!"

Hadley pushed her back, "I told you before we started this; the connection was bad. I can't do it again."

The new knowledge was eating away at her as she stared at the chain covered wall. Johanna's hands were in her hair, clutching at the roots; she almost wanted to pull it out.

It wasn't possible. It simply wasn't.

* * *

"_I saw Katrina giving birth."_

_As Abbie spoke, the emotion died in both Ichabod's face and his heart. It felt as if he'd been punched in the gut. This was worse than dying; this knowledge. He couldn't help himself from speaking his next words, "What did you say?"_

"_Downstairs," Abbie took a breath hesitantly, "I had a vision. I saw what happened here." Ichabod's lips parted in disbelief as she continued, "Katrina came back here because she was going to have a baby."_

_He took a small breath, "No." Ichabod shook his head as the doubt crawled through his mind like sludge, "No. I'm sorry. You must be mistaken." His thoughts went to his sweet loving wife. The same wife that had lied to him about her power… "She would've told me."_

_Something akin to pity was all over Abbie's features, "Well, she needed to keep it secret."_

That conversation played over and over in his mind as he maddeningly chopped away at the roots of the demonic tree creature. It had terrorized his family. HIS FAMILY. Ichabod swung the axe again, kicking the smoldering flare on the ground. Blood spurted up from the roots as he pulled away the axe. A great, gushing flow that covered his clothing, his face. But Ichabod didn't care.

"You think that you can attack those I love without consequence?" Ichabod yelled, enraged as he pushed at the creature before him, dodging swipe after swipe from its ragged limbs. He swung the axe again, "That you can come for my wife? My child?" He yelled in anger over the creature's roars.

The creature was right in front of him now. In pain. In anger. The same as he.

"Give Moloch my regards." Ichabod rammed the axe right into the demon's face.

He stood there blinking and gasping for breath as the creature fell. It was almost as if he was breathing for the first time.

As he came toward the car, Abbie said something, but Ichabod wasn't paying her attention. He said simply, "I should like to go home now."

And home they went.

Abbie had worked about cleaning his clothes while Ichabod cleaned himself at Sheriff Corbin's cabin. He still had difficulty thinking that the cabin was his own. Abbie successfully cleaned his clothing, as he'd opted out of wearing anything of Sheriff Corbin's, and he was lacing up his boots again when she spoke. "I'm sorry that Katrina didn't tell you about your daughter."

He secured the tie of his boot, "I am certain that she had good reason."

"How about some cheering up, huh?" Abbie said, holding out his coat in one hand and a bottle of his favorite rum in the other.

That brought a smile to his face. True friendship. "You know me too well, Abbie." He got to his feet and reached for the bottle.

"Ah ah." Abbie stepped out of his reach, "You only get to drink this if you come to Thanksgiving."

"Regretfully, I am not in the mood to celebrate. Especially without my family."

Abbie smiled sadly, "Family doesn't always mean blood." Then her smile turned mischievous. Never a good thing, in Ichabod's experience. "I don't blame you anyways; Jenny did the cooking."

"Miss Jenny will be there?" He smiled at the thought of his fellow revolutionary.

"And Captain Irving and his daughter, Macey; she made the pumpkin pie."

"Well then." He took his coat from Abbie and snatched up the bottle of rum just as they stepped out the door, "I suppose attendance is mandatory."

* * *

**Whoo! Longest chapter yet! *celebratory dance***


End file.
